Cross Over
by A'isha Ishtar
Summary: What had the Decepticons ever done for Knock Out? He'd only had one real friend among them, and even he was gone now. And it wasn't like anyone wanted him around anyway. There wasn't any point being there, but what could he do? The only other option left was to... not be a Decepticon anymore. Knock Out centric, some OC's. (Not an actual crossover, lol.)
1. 6:58, Are You Sure Where My Spark Is?

**... I need to stop getting ideas.**

**This was inspired by countless pictures on deviant Art, most of which were by The-Starhorse. Her art rocks, you must go look at it. She makes the cutest Knock Out and Breakdown. And the funniest photo comics.**

**PSSSSST. I might do photo comics. END PSSSSST.**

**Anyway, they were all sad pics and comics of Knock Out, and I was all "Knock Out's life sucks." Because seriously, it seems like every episode, something happens to him. His paint gets scratched, he stops a train with his face, his best friend dies, Starscream's an asshole, and not to mention none of the other 'Cons give him little to no respect. BOOOOO. I think Megatron would have thrown him out of the Decepticons a LONG time ago if he wasn't their only medic.**

**At least this way, he gets a bit of dignity, eh? Makes his own choices! 8D You go, Knocky! We support you.**

**I'm doing a different way of titling the chapters, after lyrics in songs. This first chapter title is from the song "Spark" by Tori Amos. Good song, if a bit depressing. But depressing is EXACTLY what I needed for this first chapter. (Also, about the song in the beginning... I needed to use it for SOMETHING. And it seemed to fit, so teehee.)**

**... Mostly it's just Knock Out angsting. AND I LOVE THAT.**

**Enjoy, guys! More *gasp* PLOT to come soon.**

* * *

_There's no explanation or forewarning underneath all the crimson linings_

_We approach the streets with a clear conscience, we'll survive_

_Let it all fall down... let it all fall down..._

_It's one way to afford a horizon, and not to mention_

_It's one way to say we're abandoned_

_And we don't belong here at all..._

~"Romance Is" by LIGHTS

* * *

The only sound that echoed through the now-empty Med Bay was the cold, ritualized clink of the doctor putting away his tools.

That was how Knock Out liked it. He was alone now, and there was nobot to disturb him. His last patient for the day, Soundwave, had made his exit joors ago, leaving the medic to his own company. He'd had to patch up the silent mech's blank screen of a face before he could even _process_ about fixing his own damage. And now there was no more time for that; the deep scratches on his finish would, regrettably, have to wait until tomorrow. In the meantime, all he could do was take some pain reliever and hope he could recharge. As bad as it looked - which was _awful - _it hurt just as badly, if not worse.

He vented heavily and swallowed the far-past-medical-grade energon, offlining his optics for a brief klik. All these aches weren't doing anything for how unbelievably tired he was feeling. "It's been a long day," he muttered, leaning back in his chair. "Too long, if you ask me," he added, opening his eyes and staring at the ceiling.

He pushed himself up out of the chair and looked down at his desk. A digital hologram frame rested on the corner by the computer, and he carefully picked it up. His claws curled around the sides as each holographic picture drifted past it. There were so many photos. Most of them were of him and his medical/combat partner. His assistant. His comrade. His... friend. "Breakdown," he vented, optics moving rapidly over every detail of every picture.

There was one he remembered from a long time ago, when they were still studying to be medics. Back on Cybertron, when life had been simpler. They were holding up their first top mark, from a medical laboratory assignment. He couldn't quite remember what the assignment had been, but he did remember that the mark their teacher had awarded them was the highest in the class for that particular lab. So of course they had to go be idiots and take a picture of their lab datapad with a big blue "A" on it.

Things had been different back then, in a lot of ways. In school, he'd always remembered being... happier. Breakdown had been too. Back then, everyone had expected Breakdown to become the full medic and Knock Out to be his assistant. Of course, who could blame them for thinking that? The way Knock Out remembered it, he'd been lazy back then. He chuckled, shaking his helm. "I think I even cheated off some of your papers, Breakdown," he mused, flicking a claw over the screen to change the picture. "And I don't believe I ever said thank you, either."

More pictures, more memories. Most of them had been taken by Soundwave's cameras, and Knock Out had persuaded the communications officer to transfer them to the holo-frame. (After all, Soundwave knew what it was like to have someone you never wanted to forget. In his case, though, it was Megatron.) He couldn't remember the occasions of a lot of them - and he had no idea how he'd obtained the one of himself and Breakdown racing together. But he liked to have them anyway, especially now that Breakdown was gone. All of his time with his friend was over; he only had the memories, even if he couldn't remember a lot of them.

He gently put the frame down and rubbed a servo against the side of his helm, accidentally touching a couple of the scratches. "You're getting old, Knock Out," he mumbled, pushing his chair in. "Soon you'll be forgetting your medical tools inside some unfortunate Vehicon's spark chamber..."

He walked over to the exam table, to make sure he'd cleaned it well after Soundwave had left, but a sudden wave of pain washed over him because of the scratches. He gripped the edge of the table, gritting his denta and waiting for it to be over. It was excruciating, like a sharp burning all over his body; like a knife digging into each and every cut, reawakening the initial agony. It wasn't bad enough he'd gotten hit with a train, was it? His body had to make him keep reliving it.

Once it passed, he cycled his vents deeply a few times and leaned wholly against the table. "_Primus..._" He felt so much like crying. How was this fair? Soundwave probably wasn't even hurt that badly. He was hurt on _one_ part of his body and had been given the best care possible, while Knock Out was still in pain in at least fifty different wire paths and would have to wait to even repair himself. He was the _medic_ and he had to _wait_ because Megatron's precious little spy had to be patched up right that klik.

He let his helm fall forward onto the table, offlining his optics. It _wasn't_ fair. He never got any respect around this slagging ship. He never got any respect among the other Decepticons. Airachnid probably got more respect than he did, and look at _that_ hot mess. She had defected, probably been captured by Autobots, had _offlined his best friend,_ and still everybot thought more highly of her than they did of him. And he was their medic?

"Somehow I pictured this differently," he commented to no one. "Being a medic is supposed to be a noble profession. I'm the one who takes care of every little complaint they all have. The faceplate cracks. The detached limbs. _The life support, for Primus's sake!_" He reached up and rubbed at the back of his neck. He was suddenly feeling so very tight and sore all over, worse than just nanokliks ago. "And what do I get for all my trouble? I get scolded because I attempted to climb the ladder. I get barked at to attend to everyone else and ignore my own problems. I get ordered around like I'm everyone else's _maid._"

He carefully pushed himself up into a standing position, wincing at the pain the action created in his back struts. Primus almighty. Why did he put up with all this? It wasn't like he was getting anything from it anymore. The only really good thing he'd gotten was that he was with Breakdown, his best friend since medical school.

Fluid tried to spill past his optics, but he just shook his helm to clear the feeling. He missed Breakdown; there, he admitted it to himself. He didn't just want to honor his partner's memory. He _wanted Breakdown back._ There was no reason for that sparkless glitch to offline Breakdown. She deserved to have been executed, and she knew her termination was coming. She could have run. She could have fought. She could have done _anything_ but kill him.

He wished she was the kind of person to actually have friends. Then he could hunt down her friends and brutally murder them so she knew how it felt.

Knock Out straightened up a bit more, ignoring the stabs of pain. He now had a bigger problem to contend with; the scratches were itching. Like some little scraplet was crawling all over him. "Urghh..." His claws moved stiffly, he wanted to relieve this stupid sensation so badly. But he couldn't _even,_ he knew, because all that would do was make the cuts worse. That would cause more pain, and he was reluctant to take more of his medication. He didn't have much of it left, and going to look for more was such trouble.

He contemplated taking another vial, but thought better of it after a glance toward the drawer he kept it in. It wasn't worth it, after all. If he could manage to control himself, the itch would go away soon. Then he'd just have the pain to deal with. "I'm sure it'll start working soon," he reassured himself softly, lightly rubbing the side of his faceplate. He just wanted to fall into his berth and recharge for an entire deca-cycle.

He walked into his quarters, turning off the lights for Med Bay. Today felt like the longest cycle of his entire life, and he was simply ready for it to be over. Maybe - though he didn't have a lot of hope - tomorrow would be a little better.

As he closed the door, he admitted one thing to himself, even if not verbally. Since he'd come to work on the _Nemesis,_ his life had slowly fallen apart.

Working for the Decepticons... kind of sucked.

* * *

**AWW POOR KNOCK OUT! *hugs* OF COURSE WORKING FOR THE DECEPTICONS SUCKS. POOR BABY.**

**Everyone give Knock Out a hug. Feel bad for him! X'D**

**So yeah. Hopefully more to come, and bleh. Stuff. Maybe if you review, life will get better for Knock Out. SHALL WE TEST THAT THEORY, LADIES AND GENTS?**

**Lol, thanks for reading! ^^**


	2. How 'Bout Getting Off These Antibiotics

**This is more fun to write than I thought it would be! It's something different for me writing chapters without OC's.**

**But fear not! Hopefully some of my OC's will show up next chapter. I'm not sure if all of them are going to make it, but they might. Fingers crossed! I believe there are four in total that I'm using. Four or five... *goes to review her stats* Meh. Whatever, there's at least four, lol.**

**I made a cover for this, randomly! I got some new high-polymer erasers last night so I had to test them out. Since I have no tablet and I suck at digital inking, I like as little smudging as possible... so yeah. I'll have to color it soon and get it uploaded so one of my stories will finally have a cover in this new system! XD**

**Today's chapter title is from "Thank You" by Alanis Morissette. It's actually supposed to be "How 'Bout Getting Off *of* These Antibiotics", but there wasn't enough room in the title bar. So sorry guys!**

**Anyway, this? This chapter was insanely so much fun to write. Any guesses as to what KO's, erm, "condition" is? I think I dropped a hint or two in this chapter, but it might not be obvious. Then again, it may be. Depends on the reader... MWAHAHAHAHAHA.**

**Okay, I'll shut up now, lol. Enjoy!**

* * *

Knock Out furiously jabbed the button to make the doors close. "_Just! Shut! __**Already!**_" The two sides of the doors stuck, and he gave them a frustrated kick. They shuddered and finally closed, and the medic could at last turn around and attend to himself.

Thanks to _someone_ who would remain nameless - _cough,_ Starscream who had been petty and jealous and spiteful, _cough - _Megatron had found out about one of the races Knock Out had snuck out to participate in last week. And the warlord's punishments were quite possibly even worse than the SIC's. Starscream gleefully made scratches on his finish; Megatron gleefully his claw into an existing scratch and tore it so badly it started to leak again. He didn't do it _gleefully,_ per se... it was more of a sadistic satisfaction.

His vents sputtered in between trying to cycle themselves, as he stumbled over to the table of his medical tools. Everything in Med Bay was blurred at the moment, probably thanks to his turning too fast. He tried to reorient himself, grabbing onto the edge of the table. His claws searched for a cloth, a patch, anything to stop the leak. It wasn't life-threatening, but it still wasn't a slagging picnic. The loss of energon was beginning to get to him, making him dizzy.

He found a patch, and shook his helm to clear his processor. Unfortunately, the klik he looked down to examine the now-open scratch, he could just barely keep himself from glitching. It was an ironic weakness; he could spill the energon of others all he pleased, and repair the most ghastly wounds, but one look at his own energon and it was a fight not to purge his systems.

Thick blue energon was oozing out at a steady pace, even dripping down the rest of his chassis. He almost gagged at just the thought of touching it to stop the leak. It was times like this when he _really_ wished his partner were here. Breakdown wasn't squeamish in the least, and he he could repair things like this in no time at all. (And did it while chatting like a human hairdresser.)

"Ugh." He carefully applied the patch to his cut, grimacing when the cold material came into contact with the reopened slice in his armor. It always stung a little at first when you put it on. He offlined his optics and cycled his vents a few times, attempting to calm down. There was some pain, yes... but he'd be fine.

Although, he could go the rest of his life without _ever_ seeing Megatron's faceplates again.

After a few kliks had passed and he'd cycled his vents a few times, he could compose himself long enough to at least look down at the puddle of energon that was now on the floor of his Med Bay. "What a mess," he muttered, opening a drawer in search of a cloth to clean it up with. It hurt to bend down, but he had to find _something._ If he didn't wipe that up it was going to leave a stain, not to mention become sticky.

"Oh dear," was his comment after he realized that, in his daze, he'd opened the wrong drawer. This drawer was where he kept his medicine. The vials were right in front of his face - three more of them. Slag... he'd have to find more soon. It was so tempting to just grab one right then and gulp the whole thing down. He was so upset, and even though the scratch was covered it still throbbed like it was fresh. Having just been reopened and stabbed inside, he wouldn't be surprised if Megatron's claw had caused a new injury as well as opening up the initial cut.

But he couldn't. There was no telling when he would be able to find more of his medicine. He had to watch himself and ration it out; make it last and only use it for the pain where he thought he might go _offline_ because of it. This... This wasn't that kind of pain. He could get through this. "Grin and bear it, Doctor Knock Out," he vented, reaching for the handle of the drawer to shut it. "Grin and bear it, just like you always do. You've had no problems doing it before, you'll have no problem doing it now."

_Primus,_ what he wouldn't give for some high-grade right about now.

He reached over to open the other drawer, he was sure that was where he'd tossed a couple of rags. Before he could even get his servo around the handle, an awful wave of agony ripped through his armor. It was from every single scratch he'd received yesterday, all simultaneously sending horrible, sharp little pulses of pain across his body. It was everywhere. The pain was everywhere. It was everywhere.

_Everywhere...!_

He dropped to his knees, not knowing where else he was supposed to go. The only real option to go was down, wasn't it? Nowhere else. He couldn't very well go up, after all. His servo caught the edge of the desk, as he tried to bring himself up. It didn't work though, and his claws dug weakly into the metal.

The pain consumed every micrometer of his armor, every dark section of his processor. He couldn't think about anything else except how excruciating this was, which as any sane mech knew only made the situation that much worse. His spark beat wildly against its chamber, and his vents were kicked into overdrive.

He couldn't think. He couldn't breathe. Why was it so unbearably hot all of a sudden?

A sound slipped out of his audial processor that wasn't as quiet as to be called a whimper, but wasn't as loud as to be called a yell. It grated out and he yanked the drawer open. He couldn't. He couldn't even. This pain was terrible, too terrible. He needed it.

His arbitrarily clumsy claws finally wrapped around the vial of medicine. Finally. _Finally!_ He jerked his servo out of the drawer and fumbled with the stopper for a few nanokliks. Determined, the rubber cork came off at last, and he didn't even give two slags where it landed. His shaking servo brought the lip of the vial up, and he tilted himself backwards as he drank every last little bit. He nearly fell over once he was done, allowing himself to lie back on the floor. He needed a klik, just a klik while he waited for it to work.

His servo fell down beside him, the empty glass vial rolling out of his grasp. "'Knock Out, do _this,_'" he cried softly, curling his legs up underneath him. "'Knock Out, do _that._' What about 'Knock Out, you work so hard and you deserve a day off - go fix your own damage so you don't go offline!_ You're our ONLY medic!_' What about _that?!_"

He was so angry and hurt and miserable that he wanted to snatch the vial back and just throw it. Smash it against the wall and break it into a million little pieces. That was what everyone else did to him; to his spark. Each time. All the cutting little remarks, all the _looks - _Primus, the _looks_ he received. Every last Decepticon thought he was somehow below the rest of them. Like he didn't even belong here.

_"What are you doing here, Knock Out?"_

He rolled onto his side. "I-I'm a Decepticon," he whimpered. "This is our ship. That's... That's why I'm here..."

_"Look at you! HA! Just poke you and you'll dent."_

"It's not my fault," he defended, his claws twitching. "I can't help that I'm easily hurt..."

_"You're not a real Decepticon."_

He pouted, offlining his optics. "I am so. I'm as much a Decepticon as any other mech on this ship..."

_"You're not one of us, Knock Out. You never could be."_

Fluid leaked from his optics, even when they were shut. "I am one of you! I'm a Decepticon! I'm your medic! I've always been one of you!"

_"You don't belong."_

He tossed his servo over his optics, trying vainly to wipe away the tears. They were right. They were all _right._ He didn't belong. He wasn't like the rest of the Decepticons. He was every bit as sadistic, but he didn't... he didn't belong. He was so different from any of them. "I don't want to be here anymore," he sobbed. "I don't _want_ to be a Decepticon anymore. I'm not like the rest of you. I shouldn't be here if I don't belong."

The only one who ever truly respected him was Breakdown. His partner, his best friend. Breakdown had always been good to him; never once had his partner criticized his personality, or his rituals, or the way he wasn't like any of the other mechs. He and Breakdown were alike, and added some manner of variety, some unique, upbeat air to the ranks of the Decepticons.

Things may not have always been great when the medical assistant had been around. Conditions weren't ideal, and the medical team was still cruelly teased. But at least they had _fun._ When Breakdown had been around, it was easier to see the sliver of a positive side.

Where was Breakdown now? Gone. Gone, and he was never coming back.

All that was left was the majority side. The negative one.

A sort of numb sensation had settled over all the scratches on his armor, and he felt better. He couldn't feel the physical pain anymore. But there was still that awful thought at the forefront of his processor; not wanting to be here anymore.

And he didn't. He wanted to just leave. He'd stayed this long after Breakdown was gone, but it wasn't worth it any longer. The constant damage to his finish, the crushing silence of Med Bay when he had no patients, the careless way in which the others treated him. Sometimes it was like he was invisible; he'd be shoved aside if he were in the way, as if there were just air. All the other mechs acted like he was an embarrassment to have in the Decepticons - he could literally count on one servo the bots who hadn't hurled remarks his way.

No. He didn't belong here. "I..." He wiped away the tears before they had a chance to dry. Nobody could know he'd been crying. Decepticons didn't cry. "I have to get out of here."

* * *

Knock Out looked past the door into Megatron's throne room. There he was as usual, sitting on that stupid throne and just waiting for somebot to come in so they could be punished. Sitting there. Like the world owed him something.

"Lord Megatron," he called. He felt weak inside and in body, even without the pain, but he was trying to sound no less confident and flamboyant than he always was. If there was any falter of his normal personality, any little crack in his act, he'd be suspicious. And he'd seen what his "master" did to suspicious bots. It wasn't pretty. Wasn't pretty at all. "Our energon reserves are low. I'm going scouting for a few joors."

The warlord grunted. "Anybot else going with you?"

"No. I prefer to do it alone ever since... Breakdown's termination. I work better alone. If nothing else, there are fewer distractions that way."

Megatron shook his helm. "I'd send Starscream with you, but he's too busy kissing aftplate. And Dreadwing is just busy in general." He waved his servo at the medic. "Well, what are you waiting for then? Go see Soundwave and get a ground bridge. Out of my sight."

"Of course..." He turned around as the doors closed. Making sure no other mech could see, he practically sneered out the last word, dripping with sarcasm, "_Master._"

He was ready to leave. He'd stored the rest of his medicine - only two vials - and some tools (mainly a buffer and patches) in a subspace compartment. He wasn't sure where he planned to go, but he had to go somewhere that wasn't _here._ Living here wasn't life at all. Living here was ridiculous. It was a _joke._

At last he found Soundwave. By the time he caught up with the silent mech, his heel struts had started hurting now. _What else can go wrong?_ he thought bitterly as he approached the spy. "Oh Soundwave," he greeted in the most unassuming manner he possibly could, with a sort of singsongy lilt as he usually did to get others' attention. "I'll need a ground bridge, if you wouldn't mind. Heading out to do some scouting."

Soundwave's faceplate seemed to inspect him for the longest, most unbearable time; as if looking for any trace of lies. **"Scouting,"** he repeated finally, displaying a map of the area on his screen.

He laughed nervously, reaching back to rub at his helm. "Well, er, anywhere, I suppose. You never know where you might find an energon deposit, right? I didn't really have any specific place planned, so... wherever you want to send me, I guess. Surprise me, heh-heh."

Soundwave nodded, and put some coordinates into the computer. **"Wherever you want to send me."**

After a few nanokliks, a swirling vortex appeared in front of Knock Out. The ground bridge. His gateway to freedom, because he was never coming back. This would be the last time he ever set pede on the ship. The last time he ever saw any of the other Decepticons.

_... Nope,_ his processor reminded him. _I don't care._

In fact, he was happy to get away from all of them. Soundwave never talked to anybot, and was constantly plotting ways to use other mechs' words against them, yet was quick to defend Megatron over every other bot in their ranks. Starscream may have been a better leader than Megatron, but that wasn't saying much; and besides, he'd sell out anybot to save his own aft, not to mention the pleasure he took in doling out cruel punishments. Dreadwing wasn't too bad - unless you were in the way of his justice, and add that to the fact that he was too serious, intimidating, and overall a rather boring mech to talk to.

And Megatron would be the one he was happiest to get away from. There weren't enough words to describe how relieved he would to never have to see that mech in his life ever again.

He gave Soundwave a trademark salute before stepping closer to the bridge. "See you, Soundwave." _And good riddance to all of you,_ he mentally added before jumping through the bridge.

* * *

Knock Out landed somewhere near a road. Probably still in Jasper, but the road was what the humans might refer to as "the path less traveled." It looked like it was seldom used; all the better that way. Soundwave would never had bridged him somewhere there would be a high risk of being seen, after all.

He shook his helm, reaching up to brush at one of the scratches on his chestplate. No use thinking about that fragger now. About any of them. The fewer times he was reminded of them, the better his life would be from now on. "Yes, Knock Out," he murmured, transforming. "This is where it all finally starts for you. What's that human saying... 'It can only go up from here.' Exactly."

He revved his tires, and merged onto the road. The concrete felt smooth and comforting beneath his tires - one thing that even the humans had managed to get right. Turning on his headlights, he eased his gearshift forward and began to accelerate. He was just going to drive until he couldn't drive any longer.

Off he sped down the road, with no plan but one: just drive, and never look back.

* * *

**... I like that plan. 8D**

**Getting out of there and having the courage to LIE like a rug? GOOD FOR YOU, KNOCK OUT. GOOD FOR YOU!**

**Alright, now we all have to give him a giant mosh pit hug. Come on, everybody, bring it in! Just be careful. Don't scratch the paint, he's hurt enough already. X'D**

**No tears, KO, no tears. Soon you'll be happy! ... I think. I hope.**

**Thanks for reading! ^^**


End file.
